The Interplanetary Ion Cannon
by BackgroundRobot-11
Summary: In the depths of the Outer Rim, the Empire prepares another superweapon...


0 ABY

 _Victory I_ -class Star Destroyer _Templar_ , in Missarassa orbit

"Magnificent, isn't she?" The man standing in front of the transparisteel window pressed a black-gloved hand to it, his expression almost longing.

The way he kept looking at it, kept reaching out to it, Fleet Admiral Bertos Surrel was more than a little convinced that Welund Antilles wanted to kriff the damn thing. The Empire's latest superweapon, the Interplanetary Ion Cannon.

Antilles was a good looking man in his mid-forties, with slicked black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. The most noticeable thing about him, however, were his eyes. Or rather, what he had in place of eyes. The skin surrounding them was covered by rectangular patches of black metal, while the eyes themselves were narrow red slits that glowed faintly, casting a glow over whatever happened to be in front of him. He was a member of the Imperial Department of Military Research, and he wore a pin in the shape of its symbol on his uniform's collar.

Surrel, on the other hand, was a thoroughly unattractive man in his late-fifties. He was stocky and balding, and had a large head and blue-grey eyes that seemed too small for his face.

"It's an impressive weapon," Surrel admitted, not without some hesitation. "Though, it seems a little redundant, with the completion of the Death Star. Not to mention, it seems somewhat inferior."

Antilles turned to Surrel, a frown crossing his face. "Inferior? In what way, Admiral?"

"Well, it's smaller, for one thing. It's not even half the size of the Death Star. It isn't as well-armed either; it can't destroy a planet."

Antilles scoffed, and Surrel was sure that if he were capable, Antilles would have also rolled his eyes. "The problem with weapons like the Death Star is that they're too destructive, too indiscriminate. Devices like my Interplanetary Ion Cannon will do a suitable job of killing off the populace while leaving potential resources undamaged. A much better option, if you ask me."

Surrel narrowed his eyes at that statement, and had to suppress a growl. "Be very careful with your words, Antilles. Negative words against the Death Star could be considered treasonous. The Death Star is the Emperor's ultimate weapon, his preferred choice. You'd do well to remember that."

Antilles looked unperturbed. "For the moment, at least. The fact that he's ordered the construction of my ion cannon seems to suggest that he's not totally convinced of its power." Antilles paused for a moment, and looked down his nose at Surrel before continuing: "As for the size, a smaller weapon allows for a smaller crew. The Death Star literally needs millions of crewmembers to function, whereas the ion cannon requires mere thousands." A smirk crossed Antilles' face. "Not to mention, there are fewer _pointless_ facilities. Did you know that they've set up clothes shops on the Death Star? I hear there's a lingerie store on Deck 69 with a very wide selection to pick from."

Surrel scoffed. "I don't believe you. I'm sure Grand Moff Tarkin would space the man who would dare to suggest it."

Antilles' smirk seemed to grow even wider. "If you say so." After a moment of silence, Surrel winced when Antilles opened his mouth again. "I hear it's a big hit with the stormtroopers; it's a common sight to see them carrying bags from the store when they're off shift."

Surrel clenched his fists and ground his teeth. It would do him no good to beat the other man to death, no matter how much he might want to.

Before he could dwell more on his distaste for Antilles, Surrel found himself distracted by the sudden sound of shuffling feet. He turned to see a protocol droid shambling towards him in the slow, stiff-legged way that they did.

The gold-plated, emerald-eyed droid had been a gift from Moff Ozzaris Vlanc, the governor of the Auril Sector. When Vlanc had been a mere admiral, he'd served as Surrel's commanding officer, and had suggested to Grand Moff Therbon that Surrel be the officer to oversee the construction of the ion cannon. Surrel wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. One the one hand, being trusted enough to ensure the defence of the Empire's newest weapon was quite the honour. On the other, however, he felt out of the way, almost as if he were being shunted aside. The fact that he had been shifted from his flagship, the _Purifier_ , to the smaller and less impressive _Templar_ did not help. Nor did the fact that he now only commanded the _Templar_ , the _Carrack_ -class light cruiser, _Despot_ , and a small base down on the surface of Missarassa. The small force was a substantial downgrade from serving as the Auril Sector's Fleet Admiral.

"Admiral Surrel, Grand Moff Therbon wishes for an update on your progress," 8K1-RA-7 reported.

Surrel nodded. "Very well, I'll take it in my quarters."

He made to walk off of the bridge, the droid trailing after him, as it so often did. Abruptly, Antilles' hand reached out and grasped the RA unit's limb. "Droid, you have a rent in your arm."

The protocol droid peered down at its limb, noticing that there was a very small split. So slight as to be barely noticeable. "So I do, sir. Please, permit me to go down to maintenance and have it repaired. I shall be back as soon as possible."

Antilles shook his head. "No need, I can fix the damage now." At that, he pulled his gloves off, and Surrel blinked in surprise. Antilles' hands were prostheses, and blatant ones at that; the rods and servos were completely exposed, with no synthskin to cover them. Antilles held up his hand and extended his index finger. Surrel had to repress the urge to leap back in shock when a bright blue flame sprang from the tip of the finger. The engineer examined the blaze for a moment, before carefully lowering it to the droid's arm. The Admiral shielded his eyes and stepped back as sparks flew up from where the other man worked on the droid's damaged arm.

"You are just full of surprises, aren't you?" Surrel asked, his small eyes narrowing.

Antilles shot a smirk at Surrel and extinguished his welding torch. "Indeed. Well, don't let me keep you, Admiral; Grand Moff Therbon is waiting."

Surrel growled a response, before pivoting and striding off, almost tripping over a mouse droid in his haste.

Before Surrel exited the bridge, he turned back and saw Antilles place a hand on his chin and furrow his brow. "Now that I think on it, perhaps a lingerie store would be a good thing to install?"

It was all Surrel could do to not punch Antilles out then and there.


End file.
